


The Difficulty of Keeping A Promise

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [16]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis | René d'Herblay-centric, Episode: s03e06 Death of a Hero, F/M, Light Angst, Musketeer March 2021, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Promises, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 14:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: Ana wanted Aramis to promise her that he would remain at her side.  He did so, but it caused him more anguish than either of them will ever know. Fortunately, it also paid off.
Relationships: Ana de Austria | Anne d'Autriche/Aramis | René d'Herblay
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190600
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	The Difficulty of Keeping A Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privateerwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/gifts), [Enigma_TM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigma_TM/gifts).



Louis XIII of France was dying. There was no doubt in his mind that this could be one of the last times he ever saw the sun rise. His heart had shattered, and his spirit and body were rapidly following. He had so many things left to do, so many riches to give away before God saw fit to take him from this world. Perhaps, that would be his penance for being so cruel to those he had been meant to love.

Of course, Louis was only a boy when he became king. Ana of Austria had come to him already a woman. Their marriage had been one of power and convenience. Louis had grown accustomed to living without any sense of love in his life; his own mother had tried multiple times to murder him. What else could one expect from a woman with the history and infamy of Marie de Medici? So, he had tried to fill that void over and over again. He had done his best to care for Anne, though he knew he might never love her; tried to give her a child so that his line would be secure, and what had happened?

Nothing. She had lost the child. Like a fool, Louis had blamed her. He was the King, he could not be at fault, could not be wrong or reproached. That attitude had pushed Anne even further from his arms while he tried desperately to regain hold of her. She was his queen, he was supposed to love her, he should care. There was the operative word; “should.” So much of his life had been about what he “should” do, what he “must” do, what his duty to France and to his wife required of him. He hated it. But then she had announced her pregnancy, and Louis knew.

There was no way that the child growing within her could be his. As much as he longed for it to be his, he had shut that coffin with a final nail the moment he had taken Milady de Winter into his bed. Anne had caught him with her, and he had no recourse. There was no sweet lie he could tell her that would make her forgive him. There was no penance for the way he had slighted her over and over again since the birth of their son. Now, he was on a final pilgrimage. It was one last, desperate attempt at penance. With the newly returned musketeer Aramis at his side, he had gone on a quest to see his family crypt. The acceptance of his duty without hesitation was admirable. Perhaps this Musketeer could be trusted after all. Then he remembered the reason Aramis had come with him; this man had slept with the Queen, his Queen, his wife. He knew it was true, he only needed to hear Aramis say the words so that he could condemn him to hang. This would be the only time he would have to avenge his own honor. He was already on borrowed time as it stood, he could not waste what he had left.

He realized that Anne was not the only one at fault, and yet he could not bring himself to admit that any blame fell on him. He knew that there was no escaping the truth of it, that it was his own fault. Though he had scarcely been a boy when he married her, if not in body then in mind. That was to be expected when he was the son of a woman who had no love for him. It was also the reason he knew that he could not hang Aramis for his treason. Louis’ own actions, though not a betrayal to the crown, were as close to treason as he could come. He had alienated the affection of his wife. She, in turn had become—what was it that Aramis had called her? Oh, yes. . .— “…the loneliest woman in Paris.” As Louis stewed in his own anger, the marksman was frozen, lost in a memory.

* * *

_**“Aramis?”** _

_**“Hm?”, he hummed, letting his hands glide along the small of her back.** _

_**“The king can never know what happened last night.”** _

_**“If he ever finds out, I’ll be hanged for treason. Likely beside you. Or possibly shot.”, he mused. His fingers traced over her skin, making her shiver. He shouldn’t be here; he shouldn’t be touching her like this.** _

_**“Promise me.”** _

_**“Anything Your Majesty asks of me. What is it you want, Ana?”** _

_**“Never leave me. If you do, I fear I am lost. Promise me, Aramis. Swear that you will always love me, even if the truth of what happened here comes out.”** _

_**“I swear that I shall always protect you, Majesty. I am a Musketeer, my duty is to France; to you, to safeguard my Queen. As for loving you, should you ever have any doubt, remember what happened here.”** _

_My Musketeer. He will always defend me. Even at the cost of his own life._ Anne knew that he could see the truth in her eyes; that she loved him desperately and always would love him. The thought of losing him chilled her to the bone, but it was true. Even if they could not be together, Aramis was hers. Her body, her soul and her heart now belonged to him in ways she had never been able to give them to Louis. He recalled how he had taken her into his arms again; kissed her with a passion almost as fervent as his former desire to take holy orders.

* * *

By some sheer act of God (Aramis did not know what else to call it; he only knew that as angry as the king had been with him, he should have swung for his “crime” of loving Ana) Louis dropped the accusations. Instead, he had fought alongside the King, a man who should have been his enemy; a man who had rarely, before that day, wielded weapons. He had made a promise to Ana that he could not be seen to keep, but he had sworn to her that she would not be alone. He would fulfill that vow with his dying breath, if the situation required it. He could only pray that he could give her the strength to endure long enough to see his promise fulfilled.

The months he spent away from her while Louis languished were agonizing for Aramis. He spent hours in prayer, begging God to forgive him, waiting for the possibility that he might face a death sentence. Somehow, God was gracious, and he was allowed more time. He continued to wait, testing both his own restraint and Anne’s. If the truth were told, it was out of fear. Louis had told him that he would not go anywhere near the Queen or the Dauphin, and he had followed orders like the good soldier that he was. He had learned to ignore the pain twisting like a knife in his back, and instead attempted to pray away the unrelenting agony of a man separated from the woman he loved. At last, he could bear it no longer. The King was dead and he had made a vow to be there for Ana no matter what the cost.

That spring, when the period of mourning had passed, Aramis took a different and far more binding vow. He swore to remain at Ana’s side and to act as a guardian for young Louis, as the First Minister of France. It was then that he realized the promise he had kept was more important than all those he had broken, and it always would be. He had been redeemed through devotion and love, and those vows would never, ever be broken. After an appropriate period, Aramis sealed a different vow when wedding bells rang out in Saint Denis, as their love was recognized at last before God and man alike. A simple promise to Anne had been his redemption; and he her anchor, as he had always been. He would be happy to remain so for the rest of their lives.


End file.
